


kill, kick, kiss

by oilpaints (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 23:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/oilpaints
Summary: i want to ki _ _ you(answers may vary)





	

**a)**   **kill**

 

In the locker room, things usually get a bit messy.

Steam warms the showers. Plastic curtains drawn shut. Lockers slamming. You can hear anything and everything going on, if you strain your ears hard enough.

One of the first years, rummaging through his sports bag, says something about how difficult it would be to make it to first string. Semi opens his locker.

“Of course it is,” someone replies, spinning his words into something gentle. “This is Shiratorizawa, after all. But - ”

Semi searches for his tie, lost in the mess of his locker. Someone starts chatting loudly about some horror film. Something drops. He finds his tie.

“ - I came here to play.”

Semi slams his locker shut.

 _Shirabu._  There’s something in his nonchalant tone. A challenge, maybe. _Or,_ Semi thinks, tightening the violet tie around his throat, _a promise._

He glances at the two first years, and Shirabu catches his eye, a strained smile on his cupid’s bow lips. They’ve been clashing since Semi accidentally served into his face the other day, which really isn’t a warm welcome, so Semi takes full blame for that, but _still_ —

If looks could kill, they’d both be lying dead on the floor.

 

 

  
  
  
**b) kick**

 

In the locker room, they tend to argue less than they do on court.

Shirabu is - a _brat_ , all things considered. He ignores Semi’s advice and takes his offers of towels and water bottles with a detached politeness that sends his blood thrumming. He’s not cute _at all._

But - and Semi would set himself on fire before saying this outloud - he’s not all that bad. They’ve been getting along as of the late, actually.

Whenever they’re changing, their banter fades into something lighter. Shirabu makes a quip about the way Semi wears his uniform. Semi teases him for looking uptight, and tries not to comment about how _nice_ he always looks.

“I think you should fix your tie,” is today’s remark, “it looks loose enough to fall off.”

“Maybe you should loosen yours,” Semi retorts. A locker slams shut. Someone shuffles past, undeterred. “You look like you could choke.”

Shirabu raises an eyebrow, his sharp lips tilting at the corners. He walks closer. Semi fights the blood rushing to his face. The shorter boy lifts his hands, and he says, “What the hell are - ”

Shirabu rolls his eyes at him, tightening both his tie and his throat. Semi grits his teeth at how weak his knees feel, and the small scar at the bridge of Shirabu’s nose.

(He’s been noticing too much about him lately. The way his voice lilts. How he knots his shoelaces. The sharpness of the bones in his wrist. His mouth when he’s playing, bitten raw red.

How he makes Semi’s heart _burn,_  without fail.)

“Thanks,” Semi says, praying that his tone is sarcastic enough. Shirabu brushes his annoyingly straight bangs out of his face, and kicks his ankle.

 

 

  
  
  
**c) kiss**

 

In the changing room, the shadows cast sharp lines across Shirabu’s face, and Semi watches him run his fingers through his hair.

 _I really like you,_ falls from his rose gold mouth, and it sounds pained, _for whatever reason._

The ceiling fan whirs overhead.

Semi, praying that no one can hear his heart beat, reaches out his hand, and Shirabu catches his wrist, setting his skin alight.

 _Thud_. “You’re a brat.” _Thud._ “You never listen to me. You’re one of the cockiest people I know. You piss me off most off the time.” _Thud._

Shirabu watches him, steady. He takes every insult with a nod, if only because he can feel Semi’s pulse at the tip of his thumb.

His eyes are molten bronze, and his fingers are loose around Semi’s wrist. His usually immaculate hair is messy. The locker’s shadows highlight the sharp line of his jaw.

_Beautiful, beautiful._

“But - ”

A clock ticks. Shirabu’s face turns unspeakably soft.

“I like you too,” he finishes, and it echoes. He swallows the lump in his throat. He licks his lips, and tastes water-based chapstick and a trembling prayer.

Shirabu’s jaw sets, and he drops his hand. He stands still as a marble statue, and lets Semi touch his neck.

 _Thud, thud, thud._ Semi marvels at how fast their pulses are. It’s amazing, really, how he feels so much for this little brat that it changes the way his heart beats.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurts out.

Shirabu looks up, his steel façade melting into the tiniest, most gorgeous of smiles. “About time, _senpai._ ”

Semi leans in, and kisses his stupid mouth.

He feels the curl of the soft hairs at the base of Shirabu’s neck, the taste of rosewater chapstick, and the way his breathing hitches.

_Beautiful, beautiful._

They pull away.

Shirabu looks away, flushed to the tips of his ears. Semi feels warm and delighted and not much better.

Shirabu’s eyelashes veil his face and cast shadows along his cheeks. He blinks.

“That was,” Semi swallows, “something.”

Shirabu _laughs,_ sets Semi’s heart on fire, and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> the second I saw [this](http://yoursummerdreamz.tumblr.com/post/155860136888) my brain screamed _semishira!_ at me, and I wound up with this drabble at ass o’ clock in the morning.  
>  oh well, I love this ship to death and thus have no regrets - thank you so much for reading! ♥


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